


keeping an eye on things

by couldaughter



Series: traced upon the skies [2]
Category: Hot Fuzz (2007), Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Like... Extremely Mild, M/M, Mild Peril, Sea Monsters, The London Eye - Freeform, The Southbank Probably Doesn't Deserve This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: “Ah, fuck,” he said, gazing down at the Thames with a feeling of existential dread fizzing at his fingertips.“Wassat?” asked Danny, not turning from the window. He’d crowded up against it as soon as they’d stepped on board, nose pressed against the glass and breath fuelling a constant fog.Nick fought the overwhelming urge to scream. It was not unprovoked, given that when he’d looked down at the river he had also noticed, in his peripheral vision, a goddamn fucking sea serpent.





	keeping an eye on things

**Author's Note:**

> all i write these days is weird niche crossovers but look, we all have to create our own personal #brand

Nick had been back in London for about twenty five minutes when it all started going wrong.

Of course, the exact moment of his epiphany about this wouldn’t take place until fifty minutes after his and Danny’s arrival, when they were already in a capsule on the London Eye ratcheting ever higher at an agonising pace.

“Ah, fuck,” he said, gazing down at the Thames with a feeling of existential dread fizzing at his fingertips. 

“Wassat?” asked Danny, not turning from the window. He’d crowded up against it as soon as they’d stepped on board, nose pressed against the glass and breath fuelling a constant fog.

Nick fought the overwhelming urge to scream. It was not unprovoked, given that when he’d looked down at the river he had also noticed, in his peripheral vision, a goddamn fucking sea serpent.

Unfortunately, this was somewhat difficult to communicate when his brain was mostly sending words like “Fuck,” and “Shit,” and “AHHHHHHHH,” down his neurons.

“Ooooh,” said Danny. It almost made Nick regret marrying him. Almost. “That’s a big’un, isn’t it? D’you reckon we’re safe up here?”

This was a question Nick had been hoping no-one would ask, it being the kind of question that absolutely invited the answer ‘definitely not, now that you’ve mentioned it.’

As it happened, the answer was ‘no, and also, the capsule you’re in is about to be attacked by the Thames River Basin’s answer to Jörmungandr and plummet unceremoniously through the air.’ This was communicated not by words but by Danny jumping away from the glass and into Nick’s arms, which he tightened automatically, as said serpent raised its unfeasibly huge head to stare at the both of them. Its eyes glittered with an ancient, unpoliced menace.

Nick really hoped the group of school kids that had got on with them had lived fulfilling, if short, lives. 

The sea serpent smacked its snout against the glass a few times, producing tremors bad enough to knock all the schoolchildren off their feet, and Danny to trip over Nick’s feet and drag them onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. He caught a glimpse of a gaping maw chock-full of impossibly sharp teeth as he fell.

Nick found he didn’t mind too much about the circumstances, and retained just enough presence of mind to grab onto the leg of one of the metal benches before they became gravity’s latest plaything.

Danny screamed. Nick, to his dying day, would deny doing the same.

Luckily, any definitely-not-yelling he may have done in response to a  _ completely understandable  _  sense of pants-shitting fear was drowned out by the school group, who were apparently having the time of their lives.

He glanced across, grip on the bench still firm, to see a girl with a puffball of an afro frowning down at her phone. She was a few years older than the rest of the group, with a green ‘Visitor’ lanyard and a casual outfit of hoodie and jeans, as opposed to the blazers and ties that marked the kids out from a crowd at fifty paces - very useful for teachers, very embarrassing for the kids.

“Come on,” she muttered, tapping the screen a few times. Her free hand was tight around a handrail, but her face betrayed no sign of fear. “Can’t let me die on the fuckin’ London Eye on  _ work experience _ .”

The capsule paused, impossibly, and then floated gently to rest atop the brown, beloved Thames. Danny cheered loudly, echoed by a few of the school kids.

“Crackin’ start to the hols, eh?” he whispered, nudging Nick in the ribs. 

“Shut up,” said Nick, at a normal volume. He sat up and narrowed his eyes in the direction of the nearest unbroken windowpane. There was a young woman waving at him through it, which he found somewhat less comforting than was probably intended.

“Wotcher,” she said cheerfully. She was rather beautiful, really, with dark brown skin and long, tightly braided hair that bounced against her wetsuit as she climbed into the capsule. “Beverley Brook. I’m the rescue crew.”

The girl on the phone huffed. “What’re you lot playing at letting  _ that _ down this far?”

Beverley rolled her eyes. “Thought  _ your _ lot might have fun sorting it all out, Abz. Obviously.” The girl batted at Beverley’s hand as she ruffled her hair with a grin. “Your cuz’ll practically wet himself over this one. Metaphysical beasts and all that, I’ll bet he won’t shut up about it for at least a month.”

“Don’t know why you’re so cheerful,” said Abz. She pocketed her phone to cross her arms more effectively. “It’s not like you’ll ever hear the end of it either.”

“Um, ‘scuse me,” Danny interrupted, waving his free hand. His other was currently occupied by Nick, who’d taken it in a death grip at some point between the teeth and the falling and wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Could we, er, get rescued? Soon? My shoes are getting a bit wet.”

The water was indeed starting to lap at their feet. As Nick tilted his head to take this in, he heard a colossal splash somewhere in the distance.

“Well, good news is the monster is probably gone,” said Beverley. 

Nick sighed. “And the bad news?”

“You’ll have to talk to the Isaacs,” she said, in a conspiratorial tone. “And I know how normal coppers feel about that.”

She didn’t sound terribly sorry. 

It took a few trips for all of them to get retrieved from the capsule - about halfway through some actual lifeboats appeared, although Beverley’s method of propelling a rubber dinghy across the river with powerful kicks seemed significantly more efficient than waiting for everyone to put on life vests and quietly file onto a somewhat larger, visibly more seaworthy boat.

Either way, Nick was extremely grateful to be back on dry, stationery land and sat down by an ambulance with a shock blanket in the preferred shade of eye-strain orange. Danny was beside him in his own blanket, leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder and talking cheerfully about exactly how wicked The Expendables was.

Danny’s shirt, something he’d insisted on buying to wear on the train up to London, was somewhat stained by the river water. The I <3 LDN legend was still visible, just about, but Nick knew he was going to have to chivvy Danny into something a bit more presentable before dinner. 

Nick wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist and shut his eyes for a while.

“Hi,” said Peter Grant, somewhat sheepishly.

Nick sighed and blinked a few times. “Hi,” he replied. “I thought you’d turn up eventually.”

Peter nodded in acknowledgement. His suit was well pressed and of a suitably modern cut, but Nick got the impression Grant would far rather be in uniform. “Well, far be it from me to explore the vagaries of the Met’s command structure but - yeah, I do have to take a statement about the fuckoff massive snake.”

So Nick gave a statement about the fuckoff massive snake, and then Danny gave the same statement but with about four times as many adjectives. Peter raised his eyebrows at the introduction of Beverley to the story.

“She does like the drama of it all,” he said fondly. “Once she rode a steam engine into fairyland for me.”

“I’m assuming that’s not a metaphor.”

Peter laughed. “Well, if it was, I doubt either of us would be able to figure out what for.” He tapped his pen against his notebook, looking thoughtful. “Look, it’s not strictly protocol, but -- do you fancy a look at the Folly? I reckon Thomas would be fine with it, considering you got injured in the great fight against the ethically challenged side of our great art."

Danny lit up. Nick felt his heart twist just slightly, and chided it for being overly sentimental. Unfortunately, this had never stopped it before. “Mate, that’d be  _ wicked _ .”

"You're sure your governor won't mind?" Nick asked, just to check. 

"He's a bit busy at the moment," said Peter with a slight smile. He glanced across to another ambulance, where a tall white man in an even nicer suit and camelhair coat was talking to a stout middle aged woman with a crew cut. "He's the one that stopped your imminent demise, by the way. Probably worth a thank you at some point."

"Duly noted," Nick replied. "And in that case, I suppose a look round would be nice. You do keep talking the place up in your emails, you lucky sod."

“That’s settled, then,” said Peter. He pointed towards an absolutely beautiful car parked up by one of the ambulances. “Come on, before Seawoll sees you and decides you might be better off back with the Met.”

Nick, who remembered Seawoll from Hendon, followed swiftly on Peter’s heels, tugging Danny along by the hand. Definitely not worth the risk.

The car was a Jaguar, as it turned out. And the Folly had a pale lady for a maid, white cap and all.

Nick really fucking missed chasing the fucking swan.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't actually written abigail before! she has been forced into "normal" work experience by her mum, to "diversify her experience" and "expand her personal statement" for applying to oxford. little does her mum know that she would rather die. yes the timeline for this crossover makes literally no sense, that is my OWN cross to bear, everyone shut up
> 
> SERIES title is from 'mendip hills over wells' by henry alford, because i fucking love the westcountry you guys.
> 
> anyway i still love hot fuzz and it is still a great tone mashup with these beloved books, so i decided to revisit the boys on a holiday to london. they're visiting nick's sister, who is definitely not involved with any magic at all, and certainly isn't married to a genius loci.
> 
> find me on twitter and tumblr @dotsayers, generally just... yelling.


End file.
